


The Means for Our Own Destruction

by kafeiro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent Parents, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Daddy Issues, Family Drama, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Nerdiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafeiro/pseuds/kafeiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Away from the expectations of his father, Sam Winchester figures life at Kansas State University will be free and easy. Unfortunately for him, Gabriel Descieux has made it his personal mission to keep it anything but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrivée

**Author's Note:**

> I set up this story with little Easter eggs of sorts. Basically, bonus points to anyone who can pick up on references here as I think, as the story progresses, you’ll realize I’ve jammed them in en masse (but hopefully subtly enough that it doesn’t seem ridiculous - don’t worry, no dialogue that’s simply pages taken from the Back to the Future script or anything like that…) Not all chapters promise to be THIS long, but the only natural break seemed to be right here. Still, I have a feeling this story will be fairly lengthy as I don’t want to rush the progression of the relationships.  
> Let’s keep it somewhat plausible, right?
> 
> I’m not 100% sure on the accuracy of the layouts of anything at KSU as I’ve never been and all my information is based on the websites and my own university experiences. I’ve never even been to Kansas.

Moore Hall stood imposing and appropriately institutional in the sweltering summer heat. Students new and old were buzzing around the area, chattering away with their parents and each other as they settled in for a new year away from home. There was a sense of anticipation that hung in the air like the heat and it was wonderful. Sam Winchester surveyed it all from the side of his dad’s Chevy Impala, admittedly another thing of beauty, and tried to hold back a smile. Sure, he and his dad hadn’t been on great terms lately, arguing over Sam’s decision to not only go out to Manhattan for school but to abandon the family business and “figure things out” once he got there, but he wasn’t one to seem callous. Smiling would’ve only just hurt or pissed John off, and both end up looking the same anyway, and don’t even mention Dean…

 

“You sure this is the house you got sorted into for Hogwarts, Sammy?”

 

Sam’s face cracked into a smile in spite of his efforts as he turned to his brother.

 

“That’s what it says on the paper, so I’m pretty sure.” The thread of impertinence in his tone didn’t go unnoticed and Dean swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, the two chuckling at one another in the moment. It petered off steadily into an almost solemn silence, smiles fading in sync as they had their whole lives. Everything was going to change; they knew it, could feel the reality of it seeping into their very bones, thick and fast and aching. Sure, most days Dean would only be a two hour drive away, but this – this constant, fluid partnership – would never quite be the same. School was going to change Sam without a doubt, hopefully for the better, and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little bitter about that.

 

“You’re gonna stop by once in a while, right?” Sam knew. Sam always knew.

 

“Bet your ass I will. Gotta get friendly with some of the hot intellectual types-” Dean’s mouth hung just a fraction as his eyes tracked a book-laden blonde in a mini skirt. The boyish smirk that pulled at his lips left Sam rolling his eyes and shaking his head with a snort. “Well, duty calls,” Dean announced, bouncing up from the side of the car with a much more mischievous grin.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He froze, glee faltering a touch to make room for his indignance and expectation.

 

“What?”

 

“No, Dean.” In an instant Dean’s face morphed into a mask of irritation, the beginnings of a pout forming. “Not right now, dude. You are helping me haul crap up to the dorm, remember? Do whatever the hell you want after, but for now…” From the trunk a huff of a laugh could be heard from John, a rare blessing that instantly captured the boys’ attention.

 

“That’s right, son. Three of us better get moving with these boxes, the sooner the better.” In that moment everything at the core of the differences between Sam and Dean became startlingly clear; slumping slightly against the Impala, Sam flinched and withdrew into himself, the polar opposite of the newly stiff and militaristic obedient Dean.

 

“Yes, sir,” he said, sharp and steady, all business and reverence. Sam stifled a groan. John nodded his approval, unmoving from the trunk end, all amusement drained from his features. Not even a second passed before Dean was on Sam like a drone.

 

“You heard the man, Sammy. Grab a box and get your ass in gear.”

 

Their eyes connected and a wordless conversation passed between them, all the differences and compromise, all the hopes and fears of just that moment bubbled up and got pushed back down again in what many would assume to be true telepathy. Sam yanked open the door Dean had been leaning on, grabbing the nearest box he could come to and actively avoiding his father. Scowling back at his brother briefly, Dean made his way to the back to take a crate from John, leaving just one last box in the back seat and a rucksack full of random items laid oddly in the footwell.

 

 Sam’s stomach flopped in anticipation when everything beyond the hall doors came into clear view, independence edging closer with each step, and all his fears and thrills with it. The foyer of Moore Hall was warm and bright, far more welcoming than the exterior promised but every bit as busy. Moving carts piled with boxes, televisions, all manners of household items weaved around the floor and past the reception desk to the elevators. At his side Dean whistled in awe of the chaos. Another soft smile tugged at Sam’s lips and he found himself nodding without intending to as he pushed his way through the throng to the front desk. A sweet, awkward smile and some small talk bordering on flirtation and Sam had his room key and some rather official looking paperwork. His dad was already standing at the door to the elevators, box at feet, but Dean was hovering in between, instinct to stick close to his little brother warring with his need to please his father. Dad was winning but only just.

 

“Need the passcard to get in, dad,” muttered Sam, sliding past with Dean in tow. Shifting the box clumsily to rest on one knee, he leant forward and scanned his new car, reveling briefly in the feeling of control. It was lame, absolutely nothing to be proud of really, but in his life he’d had few occasions to feel in charge and it was awesome. The door rolled open automatically and a fair sized crowd barreled through the gap instantly, John and Dean at the head and Sam trailing behind.

 

“Which room you got Sam?” John’s gravel tone cut through all else going on. It would’ve startled Sam if he’d not grown up with it but he still had a certain awe for the man’s completely commanding presence.

 

“719. Floor 7.”

 

All eyes on the Winchesters, a strange sort of nervous, expectant quiet fell over the room broken only by the distant mechanical whir and heavy thud of the elevator’s arrival. Another smile graced Sam’s lips and he passed between the doors, another step closer to freedom.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

“It’s gonna be a bit cramped, hey?” Dean groaned as the last box thunked down on the concrete floor. It was true; bringing Sam’s belongings into the already cozy room had turned into somewhat of an obstacle course of lame but nevertheless challenging proportions. Crammed into the corner was a tiny desk and chair adjacent to the closet, leaving only a few feet of free space for the door to swing through before the real trial of navigation began. It wasn’t that Sam had a lot of boxes (quite the  pposite really) or that they were bordering on large economy sized (as they were actually fairly small considering they held everything he called his own) but the single community bathroom suite he’d opted for was proving to be even smaller than the pictures had prepared him for. Nevertheless, this was his room, his alone. It was a stable, constant place for him to return to, and it was his path to escaping his father and the pressures of family expectations. It was beautiful.

 

 “A bit, I guess,” Sam mused, a genuine smile creeping upon his face, “But I can handle it. I’ll make it work. I think realtors call it ‘cozy’ though.” Dean chuckled, kicking a box further out of the way against its mates.

 

 “Yep, cozy as a cardboard box, and several thousand times the price.” The smirk and the hard pat to the back he offered Sam asserted that, regardless of the situation or the all too recent height difference between them, he was still the older, bigger brother there. A little spark of guilt hit Sam in the chest as he realized just what all the gestures meant, pieced together with that lingering look of sadness behind Dean’s eyes. Dean was still stood by his side when he turned to him, all the mirth gone from his face and replaced with a softer remorse.

 

 “Hey, look Dean-”

 

 “Sammy, no.” His hand was raised in warning and he shook his head just once. “Don’t get all soft on me now. We don’t need it, don’t have the time, and I’m too damn hungry to give a rat’s ass anyway.” Typical. Though the guilt remained, Sam stepped back and laughed gently. He twisted his brother around to the window, pointing down to the nearest building that was teeming with students on the path below.

 

“Well, there’s a café and bakery right over there, dude. Remember passing that? It’s called a dining center for a reason so relax, you’ll get to eat in a couple of minutes. We were gonna head out at

lunch anyway, just needed to make sure everything was up here.” The instant reaction written across his brother’s face was priceless and Sam couldn’t help but tease him further. “Maybe,” he continued with a smirk, cutting Dean off before the words could even form, “you’ll even find some really good pie the-”

 

“You’ve got everything you need, Sammy. We’re done up here. Let’s go.” For the second time that day John laughed, leant against the doorframe looking only mildly less imposing with a slight smile.

 

“Don’t think that getting pie means you’re done though. You get your food and you’re back up here helping me unpack everything, okay?” The tone and severe look Sam shot Dean was clearly halfhearted, and Dean made an overly exaggerated salute, belting out a ‘Yes, sir’ for effect. “Oh, just get out, Dean…”

 

 

 

Derby Dining Center was bright and clean, swimming with all manners of beautiful aromas and lined with a plethora of different restaurants and types of cuisine. What mattered most to Dean, who seemed to be moving at twice his usual speed, was the bakery and the prospect of fresh-

 

 “Oh baby, oh baby. Yes.” His jaw was slack and his eyes bright as he settled on a shelf populated solely by pies. It was a sign of his growing maturity that his nose wasn’t pressed up against the glass. Before Sam could head over to join him Dean was already heading back with an armful of oyster packs and a childlike grin on his face. From the side John said nothing, but Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes enough for the both of them.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“What? Got one of each. One slice for now, more for the ride home. S’important to have snacks for the drive, and it’s important to have pie.” He started moving to an open table with barely a glance at Sam, struggling with his bounty. They teetered open landing, swaying dangerously enough to freeze Dean to the spot, hand splayed at the ready.

 

“Yeah, sure thing,” Sam muttered as he slid into a seat, far more occupied with watching his father from afar as he ordered his own food. “Bet it doesn’t even last ‘til the end of the day.”

 

 ”Yewonzami…” he mumbled around his fork, challenging glint in his eye. “Damn.” Sam raised his eyebrow, concerned but somewhat reserved in skepticism. “I forgot about my-” There was a  queaky shuffling as the polystyrene packs were shifted around and opened in a strange desperation. With another childish grin he stopped. “Yes! Bacon double cheeseburger. You know,” a lengthy pause to take a bite that ended with several moments filled with near obscene noises and some faces that made Sam begin to feel incredibly uncomfortable, “God, this place is just- Sammy, you have to stay here. Do a Masters, I don’t care. This burger is incredible.”

 

“Must be,” Sam chuckled, eyeing the abandoned package, “for you to leave pie alone.” He leaned forward with a mischievous grin and snatched it away, earning a venomous glare from his brother.

 

“Duntchudur yuwasso.”

 

“What was that? Couldn’t quite understand you.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as Sam took the fork and stuck it into the pastry, peeling it away from the fruit as he knew perfectly well would piss Dean off immensely. It worked, of course, leaving him deadpan in a bid for control.

 

“Whatever. Be a dick. Just make sure you watch your back. Burger’s better anyway.”

 

“Oh, I bet it is.”

 

“Shut up, Sam.” They both smirked, going back to their food, enjoying the moment that was so like many others yet felt distinctively different in the periphery.

 

“Don’t worry kiddo, I’m an expert. No, seriously, I know everything you could possibly need or want to know about this place. Could give tours – well, not that they’d want that of course…” Over the edge of his burger Dean smiled and watched the exchange, taking a quick cursory glance at Sam. It was comfortingly familiar. I’ll look after you, alright?” The boy smiled down lovingly at his burger-obscured companion, sibling Dean assumed. In an attempt at subtlety he brought the burger to his mouth, eyes following it until they closed, and started chewing happily. When he looked back up again he very nearly choked.

 

Looking back up with an equally adoring smile was a boy of barely 18, face as angled and strong as it was soft and boyish, framed by a perfect mess of dark hair, all highlighting the most shockingly blue eyes. He was focused completely on the other boy standing before him and Dean, through his spluttering coughing fit, felt a jolt of jealousy run through him.

 

Well, the boys’ attention didn’t remain fixed for much longer, heads snapping to the rather loud and inelegant display, and when the blue-eyed one actually locked eyes with Dean from across the cafeteria things got much worse.

 

“Kay, I’m going to the john. Think you can handle orderin’ some food while I’m gone, bro? You know what I like.” With another affectionate smile he patted his brother on the head before turning to leave, heading directly towards Dean. In spite of himself Dean felt his stomach drop in anxiety; though physically he didn’t look all that intimidating with his shaggy golden hair and short stature there was a definite dark determination and fury in his eyes, the tight lines of his lips and jaw that Dean knew intimately. The boy passed, sight set on Dean with eyes still blazing in warning, nodding as if to finalize his unspoken threat. Dean swallowed hard but was resolute. Once the coast was clear he darted out of his seat fast enough to leave it spinning and squeaking with the force, earning yet another groan from Sam.

 

“No, wai- Dean! We still have to unpack my- Damn it.” Defeated, Sam sighed in exasperation, stabbing at the empty pie case in hopes that Dean wouldn’t be off flirting for too long.

 

The boy cocked his head to the side quizzically once he realized he was being approached, unafraid and eerily gentle in spite of his evident confusion. It didn’t do much to calm Dean’s nerves or excitement, and he had to shove his hands into his jean pockets just to look sane.

 

“Hey.” Even though his slide into the empty seat before him was slick, the single word he uttered managed to sound incredibly lame and Dean cringed. The boy didn’t seem bothered by it at all, merely sticking to his confusion.

 

“Um…hello.” Dean unintentionally blinked, taken aback by how this strangely ethereal, small guy could possibly have such a gravelly, deep voice. He swallowed and shifted in his seat, captivated and brimming with questions.

 

“Freshman?”

 

“Yeah. Are you?” Though the nervousness still held in his frame, his voice was softening, easing into Dean’s presence.

 

“Me? Nah, I’m seeing my little brother off. I don’t even go here, doing auto tech at Washburn. You didn’t even ask. I should just…anyway.” With a nervous cough and a silent derision at his

nerves, Dean caught the boy’s gaze again and faltered. He was softly laughing. “I, uh..yes, anyway. I’m Dean.” He moved to extend his hand, cringing once again when he realized what the hell he was doing, and slowly slid it back. Smooth.

 

“Castiel.”

 

“Castiel? What is that French or something? It’s really unique.”

 

“Hebrew actually, though there is a place in Switzerland with the same name.” Castiel’s smile spread and Dean couldn’t help but reciprocate. “Funny you should mention French though, my family has some French ancestry.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Castiel Descieux. Yeah, just a bit.” Dean chuckled.

 

“I figured your history was from a little further East.”

 

“Well, there’s a little of that, too. What about you?” Relaxing, Dean slid back, getting more comfortable.

 

“Us Winchesters pretty much wandered all over the place but still managed to stay almost purely American, well…after our ancestors came over from England that is. Think maybe one of my grandfather’s grandfathers something or others was German. Nothing real exciting.” Another smirk and he narrowed his eyes flirtatiously, nerves completely dissipated. “I prefer to think of the guns.”

 

“Guns?” Castiel uttered quietly, perplexed.

 

“Winchester rifles? No? Not your thing, I take it? Makes sense. Let me guess, you’re doing a degree in something artistic, right.” There was no derision in his voice and no disappointment, just opportunity.

 

“Communications, so not really.”

 

“I’m not really too good in that area as you can tell. I, uh, don’t suppose you’d mind teaching me what you know, maybe over the phone some time?” With one hand he procured a business card from the top pocket of his jacket, nonchalantly passing it over to Castiel with a playful grin. “I really need the help.” Castiel paled slightly looking suddenly thrown by the subtle declaration of Dean’s intent but recovered well, only stuttering for a moment.

 

“Um, yeah. I…okay. I’ll call you then, Dean.” Grinning triumphantly, Dean slid out of his seat, receiving a shocked but genuine little smile from Castiel.

 

“I’ve gotta go deal with Sammy but, uh, before I go, just in case you lose my card, any chance I could have your number? Like I said, I really need to brush up on those communications skills.” Another quiet laugh and Castiel scribbled hurriedly onto a piece of scrap paper, pushing it across the table. “Thanks, Cas. I’ll talk to you later?” The other boy nodded, earning a wink from Dean before he wandered back over to his own table and the rather bored looking occupant.

 

Dean slid back into his seat with the grin still spread across his face.

 

“Went well?”

 

“Oh, Sammy, baby,” he cooed, sinking lower in the chair, “I am definitely coming to visit.” Right on cue John returned with a carrier bag and a tray of food, dropping both with no delicacy whatsoever and taking the time to study Dean. His eyebrows raised a touch.

 

“Been harassing the girls again, boy?” It was less of a question and more exasperation for John though secretly he was pleased his son grew up to become such a ladies’ man. Dean very nearly faltered.

 

“Something like that, yeah.” He turned to stare down Sam in warning, knowing full well before he even looked that his brother would be biting back a laugh.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

        Standing in the pathway to Moore Hall watching the Chevrolet that had been his whole life pull away Sam felt simultaneously small and incredibly big. As all he’d ever known left his sight his new life began, and it was every bit as thrilling as it was daunting, but he was still in Kansas. Dean was just 2 hours away. The strings were still attached by fraying edges. It was comforting to know that at least.


	2. Fraterniser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone at last Sam finds adjusting to the solo life not so solo and not nearly as relaxing as he’d hoped, especially not with campus dumbass Gabriel terrorizing all the res halls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Em Gee. I am SO incredibly sorry for the constant delays. Life has been tough and just keeps getting tougher.

 

A shiver ran up his spine, cutting through the blazing heat of the Kansas sun, and Sam turned and headed in, a fresh perspective in his mind and a smile fixed upon his face. Now things would truly begin for him, the familiar yet entirely different sort of independence he had craved, and the thought of the quiet, empty room waiting for him upstairs was glorious. The lock chirped in recognition as Sam flashed his passcard before it, and the doors rolled open for him once more, and easier experience the second time around. Slipping through, he almost ran to the elevators, speeding himself home as fast as he possibly could.

 

Inside that quiet, empty room it was a different story altogether. Sam had, in his excitement, forgotten what he’d left behind. Opening the door to his dorm he was hit immediately with the reality of it, and he sighed at the array of untouched boxes, only half-heartedly cursing Dean for leaving the job undone. At least, he thought, this way he’d have a half a chance at knowing where things were from day one and subsequently they had avoided any future arguments related. Dean kind of had organizational skills, they were just crap and made no sense.

 

Amongst the boxes the sole bag sat flumped in the middle like a bizarre centerpiece, calling for attention which, being that it was the least threatening looking item of the lot, Sam swiftly gave it. It was tipped out unceremoniously on the mattress, showering the bare fabric with little tufts of lint, food crumbs, shreds of paper, and a pool of items ranging from the practical to the downright bizarre. Amid the mess, partly covered by a scrunched up and heavily creased plaid shirt, were two lighters. The smallest of the two was a simple silver zippo adorned with a cross, an eighth birthday gift from his father that had held up well over the years, and the other was in the form of a replica Colt mark IV pistol that, try as he might, he could not stop Dean from sneaking into his belongings. It was another birthday gift, this time from Dean, that he had claimed served endless purposes and looked pretty bad ass. “Gotta make sure my little brother can take care of himself without me around,” he’d said and, though Sam had protested by reminding Dean that he was 17 years old and had been trained to fight for years by his dad, he meant it fiercely and wholeheartedly. It sat there, a strange reminder of home that simultaneously filled him with warm thoughts of his brother and resentment towards his father. The confusion of it was enough to make him forcefully flick it away out of sight almost angrily, and he turned his attentions instead to the boxes taking up all the space in the dorm.

 

After 2 and a half hours of battling the room was significantly clearer. Sam’s laptop was set up on the little desk provided, tucked away underneath his loft bed neatly pushed up against the wall and in the corner. The Ethernet cable was hooked up, drawers full of what little tech he’d actually brought along and found in his baggage thus far, and his phone was plugged in and ready to go. Things were starting to fall into place and, because he could, he was celebrating by fiddling around with his iTunes. The remainder of the boxes’ contents could easily be tackled after a break; he had plenty of time for all of that with classes not starting for a week, so he didn’t feel all too guilty. At his side, on a cheap and tiny but endlessly useful Ikea table, a kettle clicked, ready to provide him with coffee. He had everything he needed in one room – save his classes and the bathroom – and it was amazing.

 

 

A knock on the door resounded through the bare spot that had been designated ‘the kitchen’, dragging Sam out of his contented daze and catching his attention from behind the laptop. Eyebrows raised, he flicked the lid down sharply and darted out of his seat, unlocking the door.

 

“Hi. Sam, is it?” Standing in the doorway was a blonde and bright eyed girl, smiling wide and truly beautiful, holding out an open tin of clearly homemade cookies. Sam blinked.

 

“Uh, yeah. Sam. Hi.” She giggled quietly before thrusting the tin out a little further.

 

“I’m your neighbor from 3 doors down. Late move in, traffic problems. I ended up missing the floor meeting last night. Anyway, I thought I’d stop by, say hi and all that. Hope you like chocolate chip.” There was a gentleness to her face, an honesty, that Sam instantly liked and he knew that he wanted to see more of this girl.

 

“Wait, there was a floor meeting last night? Isn’t that a bit, you know, premature. There were tons of people moving in this morning. I mean, I only just got here myself.”

 

“Well, I guess maybe a little, but I suppose the majority of people coming to res were scheduled for yesterday so they want to get the welcome wagon rolling out from day one. Heard there’s another meeting tomorrow though which should make up for jilting us…”

 

He laughed, peering in the pile and pulling a cookie out. One bite and his jaw was hanging loosely, rudely, in awe.

 

“Ohmygod. These are amazing.” He swallowed, licking his lips before sucking a fleck of stray melted chocolate from his thumb. “You just made these?” The girl nodded, smirking in satisfaction. “Ugh, so good. So, do you have a name or are we just going to stick you with ‘Cookie’ forever?”

 

“Well,” she giggled again, tucking a weft of hair behind her ear, “I’m not at all against that, but my name is Jessica. Jessica Moore.”

 

“Well, Jessica Moore,” Sam stepped back in from the doorway, holding back the door with a goofy grin, “Wanna come in for some coffee?” With a girlish smile she slipped past, sealing the cookie tin as she moved, and navigated the mess of packages.

 

“I think I’d like that very much, Sam,” she hummed, “assuming, of course, that by coffee you mean ‘coffee’ coffee. You do know I’ve been offering cookies to all my close neighbours, right?” Her tone was playful but Sam still spluttered, blushing in a flash.

 

“I- uh- I’ll go put some water on to boil then,” he muttered, wandering over to his desk. “I know there’s not many places to sit, so I’m afraid the desk chair is it, but feel free to get as comfortable as you can.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Jessica assured as she flopped down into the only seat, “I’m only teasing you, and it was totally worth it. You’re kind of adorable all flustered like that.” Sam let out a gentle, huff of a laugh, looking up at Jessica with a shy smile, spoon in hand.

 

“Doesn’t happen very often, I have to say. How do you like it?”

 

“What?” It was Jessica’s turn to be thrown off, a light crease in her brow in confusion, but she recovered quickly with just a hint of embarrassment. “Oh, cream, one sugar, thanks.” Head back down in his task, Sam suppressed another snort of amusement, covering any failings up with the resonant clinking of the spoon circling inside the coffee mug. “So,” she hummed, mouthing quick thank you as she took the cup into her hands, sighing contentedly into its warmth and sweetly strong aroma, “You got yourself a single suite I see.” Though the intent was different, Sam sighed too, leaning uncomfortably against the edge of the door.

 

“Oh, yeah…” He shrugged and paused to sip at his own coffee, ruffling his hair with a free hand, clearing his throat for good measure. “Yeah, I wanted a share, thought having a roommate would be good, a proper college experience and just…a better way of getting used to things, you know? My dad refused, shot down the idea immediately with no good reason. Still, he hated the idea of me going off to college altogether, so this-” He gave a little flick of his head for emphasis, drawing a frown of concern from Jessica, “This is probably just his compromise. If he can’t control it all, he’s damn well gonna control what he can.” In the silence came a strange and uneasy air to the room, Jessica seated ignoring her coffee with an almost expression and Sam grimacing with regret.

 

“I- I’m really sorry,” she managed after a while, “I didn’t-”

 

“Jessica, no. I’m sorry.” With another sigh he averted his gaze to the wall, idly playing with his cup. Back tense, his sense of shame was fighting to balance out his annoyance and the memories that were being drudged up without warrant. “I didn’t mean to- I guess I’d just sort of held onto all of that. You really didn’t deserve to have all that thrown at you, we’ve only just met.” Unexpectedly, Jessica leaned over to cover Sam’s fidgeting hands with one of her own and offered a small, tentative smile.

 

“But do you feel better?” He blinked, looking from the hand on his to the warm, quizzical face focused on him. Jessica was something else entirely.

 

“I feel rude and embarrassed.”

 

“Sam,” Jessica let out a huff of mild indignation though her tone was still light, “Seriously, do you feel better?” Her eyebrow raised, lips quirked at the corner, and she watched Sam as he clearly processed how he felt, thoughts laid bare on his face. Though Sam himself didn’t realize it, it was one the joys of knowing him and one of his biggest downfalls.

 

“Actually, yeah. I think I do.” It was a simultaneous shock and relief to him, and he blinked, exhaling sharply at the realization. The simple honesty of the reaction brought a smile to Jessica’s face and she sighed softly, relieved.

 

“Then good. I don’t mind at all. I like to help people and even if I was just listening, if I’ve done some good by being here, I’m happy to help. Anything else on your mind?” Again Sam clearly, depply thought about it, though the guilt and worry of troubling Jessica was evident across his face.

 

“No, I think that’s all cleared up now. Sorry aga-” She held up a warning finger, eyebrows raised incredulously.

 

“Don’t you dare, Sam. Like I said, I like to help when I can. I… I should probably head off though, other people to greet, unpacking to do. Fun stuff. Don’t forget the floor meeting tomorrow though. Oh, and my door’s always open, okay?” That genial smile was back on her face again as she stood, mug clutched awkwardly in one hand as the other reached out to touch Sam with a light, reassuring pat.

 

“You sure I didn’t scare you a-”

 

“Seriously. That offer is genuine and I expect to see your face at the meeting, or at least your tree-like height, okay?” Sam laughed, reaching over for the cup, and followed Jessica’s path to the door.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll see me for miles before I reach the door. Oh, and same to you – the offer I mean. If I’m here you’re…you’re more than welcome, but I can’t promise you homemade cookies. No skill.” Leaning against the doorway he put on a face, mock shame, which drew another giggle from Jessica.

 

“Well maybe I can swing by and teach you a few things, hey?” A moment of silence passed between them with Jessica looking almost timid in her pondering, just biting at the inside of her lip. “You’re really sweet, Sam,” she decided, eyes bright. “I’ll see you around.”

 

With an all too pleased grin he waved her off, slipping back inside the dorm and straight back over to his desk, his music, ready to finish the chore of unpacking his worldly goods. His first meeting and, possibly, friendship had not gone without a few bumps but was ultimately starting off brilliantly. It felt lame to reflect on it with such elation, but with all the friends he’d made and lost over the years, having the seeds planted for another with at least 4 years of guaranteed residential stability was nothing short of thrilling. It was this good mood that kept him working, clearing up his tiny little dormitory space until it was actually usable, singing along obnoxiously all the while. It was this good mood that kept him so focused he didn’t notice the little tin of cookies left behind in the corner of his desk, tucked away and obscured by the relative mess of gadgets and papers, until somewhere after 6 that night.

 

Sam groaned with the realization, feeling oddly guilty that it had taken him so long, before yanking open his door and charging out into the hallway, not bothering to lock his door as he headed down towards Jessica’s room. At the halfway point her door swung open and she stepped out looking somewhat alarmed, softening once recognition hit.

 

“Sam! I was just coming to see- What are you…?” A valiant effort in restraint played across Sam’s face as he did his best impression of Jessica, adjusting his stance, holding out the tin of cookies, and trying to find a balance between smiling gently and not falling apart laughing. Jessica’s lips twitched.

 

“You left these on my desk. I got so busy unpacking - busy day – that I didn’t notice ‘til now. Hope you like chocolate chip!” Her hand swooped out to slap his arm playfully, grabbing the tin with scrunched lips and a huff of a laugh.

 

“Hey, don’t think because you’re twice my size I can’t kick your ass…” A pointed warning finger was employed along with a smirk, and she tucked the cookies away, remembering her purpose. “I was coming down to see you.”

 

“Oh?” Sam couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Yeah, my friend Leah’s had some visitors from floor 8 today, apparently this guy Brady and his roommate are throwing a party tonight, sort of a multi-hall mixer thing he’s trying to pull off. I was going to see if you wanted to come. It could be fun.” There was a hopefulness in her tone and her expression, and Sam found himself nodding without thought. “Awesome!  He said things should kick off in a couple of hours so if you wanna get ready or invite some other people…should be enough time?” He nodded again, too amused by her enthusiasm to really comment.

 

“Sure,” he agreed simply, laughing softly which Jessica copied.

 

“Meet you there or…?”

 

“I can meet you at your place if you want?” A wide, bright smile erupted across her face, infectious and warming.

 

“Great. I’ll see you at 8 then?” Her triumphant feelings were evident, emanating from her like a beacon and, with Sam’s nod, she turned and left with a wave, heading for the elevators with a lightness to her step and a little sway in her walk. Sam chuckled, heading back past the threshold yet again, a new set of preoccupations to carry on with.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hey,” Sam greeted softly. Jessica stood clutching the door, almost wrapped around it, jaw slack. One the other side, out in the hallway, Sam stood with carefully combed hair, a light, loosely buttoned shirt, and a pair of dark and much more fitted jeans, hardly worn. He was casual yet polished, and the difference was unexpectedly astounding. Neither spoke again for a while, the distant dull thud of bass thrumming through the walls and filling the space between them. It took Jessica a while to slip out into the open, revealing her light and lacy dress for the evening, leaving Sam flustered all over again. “Wow,” he managed after a few failed starts, running a hand through his hair, “you look incredible, beautiful.”

 

“You look pretty sharp yourself. Shall we head up?” She bit at her lip, swaying nervously. A soft smile and an extended arm answered her question, Sam ushering her forward wordlessly toward the elevator and Brady’s dorm. The second the doors opened it was clear exactly where they were meant to be, the noise from earlier exponentially louder and spilling out directly from the open door with the chattering throng of people hovering in and out of it.

 

“Hey, hey!” A voice boomed from the end of the hall. In amongst the horde a face peered out, grinning, and after a struggle a burgundy silken-clad guy stepped out, sweeping his hand towards the entrance. “Jessica, glad you could make it. Come on in.” Feeling quite invisible, Sam rubbed at his neck and stepped back, letting Jessica creep forward uncertainly toward the chaos. “And who’s your, uh, your friend here?” He didn’t look at Sam, eyes focused on her the whole time, merely flicking his chin up in Sam’s direction. It was rude enough to cause an instant dislike.

 

“Braeden Besatt, Brady,” he extended his hand in greeting, shaking Sam’s roughly, briefly. “Nice to meet ya.”

 

“Yeah, you too,” replied Sam though he wasn’t quite sure that was true. Again, Brady steered them in without a word and they were quickly swallowed by the crowd and the noise.

 

“You drinking tonight, Sam?” Brady was back, handing a bottle to a pleased looking Jessica with a flourish, spinning around in a dance to grab another smoothly. The smirk was fixed on his face and, though his voice wasn’t quite able to cut through the music, he was certainly getting his point across.

 

“What? Oh, uh, no. I don’t think so, not tonight.” His eyes flicked to the beer in Jessica’s hands and then to her face, and she seemed unsure as to whether she was impressed or disappointed. Brady was very clearly the latter.

 

“You sure? Not even a beer?” He waved the second bottle around in invitation, waggling his eyebrows in rhythm. Shaking his head and scrunching his nose, Sam waved him off with a slight air of discomfort.

 

“No, no. I’m good, really. Getting up early tomorrow.”

 

“Whatever, dude. If you change your mind there’s a couple of kegs in the back and a cooler full of, well, pretty much everything. Free reign. I’m off to offer this one,” he waggled the other bottle again, “to one of the lovely, boozeless ladies in here. Later.” Sam shook his head and laughed, Jessica too, at the sudden awareness that Brady was _that guy_ , and there was a strange sort of relief that came with his absence. Finally they could enjoy themselves, feel the music, take in the party experience. It was nice, and for the first time in a long while Sam actually relaxed and had some fun.

 

 

It was shortlived though. Not even 2 hours in the angry roars erupted, the fists were flying, and an all too amused face was weaving away from the madness. Sam spotted him immediately, brow furrowing in thought, recognition, and followed his path.

 

“Are you okay, Sam?” Jessica struggled, hand resting in his arm in a futile attempt to regain his attention. Her voice was lost in the chaos and his concentration, and she felt a little put out. Sam followed that face, the short and sly man who seemed to have gone practically unnoticed by the others, to its next destination. Within minutes the fire alarm was blaring, a line of vodka was spread out and blazing across the countertop, and the cause was slinking his way towards the door and out of the party. Though the actual fire wasn’t much, nor was it even that dangerous, the confusion and disorder of the fighting and the noise and the fire alarms was enough to send most rushing around and out the door in worry and aggravation.

 

“I- I’ve gotta…go. Sorry, Jessica,” muttered Sam feebly, darting away before she even had a chance to speak, pushing through the masses in the hopes of catching a glimpse of _him._ The crowd was flooding directly towards the elevator, tightly packed, but blessedly overhead the stairway entry was just, _just_ coming to close. In his head Sam prematurely reveled in his triumph as he forced his way opposite the flow of people, rushing to catch up. He broke through, running for the stairs and skidding to a halt, looking and listening for any clues on which way to go.

 

Almost perfect silence greeted him, the remnants of his thudded footsteps lingering briefly, and it hung for too long. It was disconcerting, disheartening, but when a click echoed from above that feeling of success hit again and his feet began pounding again, winding up the steps and onto the landing in time to just see the 9th floor door closing. This time he was closer, there was no crowd to delay him and no confusion to obscure his target. He yanked the door open far too forcefully, fury rising up again now that the feeling of victory had settled in, and met the menace from downstairs properly, one on one.

 

 

“Hey! HEY! Hey, asshole! What the hell do you think you’re playing at, huh?” Sam bellowed, huffing with fury. The guy stood there in the hall making no attempt to run and turned slowly to look at Sam directly.

 

“What’s it to you, giant?” His face was flat, eyes the only indication of his mood, and for all his outward apathy there was an angry fire burning beneath the surface. Though he was clearly shorter and smaller than Sam there was an odd sort of maturity to his face and a confidence to his stance. He was in no way intimidated.

 

“People are just trying to have a little fun here.” Across the hall the man laughed, humourless and spitting.

 

“Stupid way of getting your kicks,” he  muttered. That only flared up the rage building in Sam, tensing his jaw and his chest, curling his fists.

 

“You don’t have to inflict your damn opinion on everyone else. Thanks for ruining everything, dude.”

 

“Oh, give me a break,” the guy scoffed, barely letting Sam finish. His arms folded and he rolled his eyes, firmly rooted to his spot and his point. “20 minutes and you morons will be at it again, playing beer pong and trying to score a few drunken fucks in the bathrooms. Thank you for being part of the good old college stereotype. Bravo.” For good effect he clapped slowly, each echo winding its way up Sam’s spine, grating. He gritted his teeth and scowled, taking a few measured steps closer, shoulders hunched.

 

“You don’t know anything about me,” he growled, and somewhere in the back of his head he was berating himself for letting some douchebag get him so riled up, but the selfish part of him was just aching from another good thing ruined by yet another reckless idiot. It was irrational, it was impulsive, and it was so like his brother it was scary.

 

“Oh, and you’re obviously an expert on me? Do us both a favor kid and just go. Stay out of my way.” Sam didn’t need to think on that one.

 

“Gladly.” He turned and let left, practically panting in his anger and the horror of his realization, wasting no time in getting to the stairwell and his path back down to Brady’s. He doubted there’d be much of anything to go back to, but he at least needed to make sure that everything was okay in the dorm and he had to apologize for brushing off Jessica so quickly. It wasn’t until he’d opened the door to the 8th floor that he realized where he’d seen that asshole’s face before.

 

 _Shit_.


	3. Connexion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wants to make amends for ditching his friends and Castiel wants to explain a   
> few things about his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this little story I assumed it would   
> be fairly short in spite of my hopes for it, but after the first 2 chapters hit 3,000+ words per…I   
> started to realize that this could potentially be a fairly lengthy story. As of this writing, I have 14   
> full chapters outlined, so I’m estimating this little fic will end up being close to Big Bang length   
> (or around 50,000 words for those not in the know).

 

Following the res party fiasco, Sam’s mood was guttered and his resolve to go and actually face Brady and, especially, Jess was shaky at best. He’d allowed himself a day to sit and stew, to worry about the mess he’d left behind and beat himself up about it, before working himself up to fixing things. He knew he should right things, desperately wanted to, but the worry of confrontation and seeing their anger wormed its way from his mind into his chest and gut. It made him uneasy at best. Still, confrontation was unavoidable; it was the first day of classes, one of which he’d come to realize he shared with Jess, and they all lived in the same building. Something was bound to happen.

 

The first class of the day was Psychology, a fairly relaxed but interesting two and a half hours, thanks greatly in part to its engaging professor, and then the disappointingly lackluster Mythology block, all leading up to six hours of nothing before English and the prospect of a likely angry Jessica Moore. He’d focused as best he could on the lessons as they came, only finding it as easy as he did because he was an avid student of, well, just about anything he could learn, but his equally strong pacifist nature and tendency towards guilt and worry made the task incredibly difficult. He’d only known Jessica a few days but he liked her a great deal, and the feeling that he needed friends and allies was ingrained within him. By the time his phone bleeped out its little scheduled warning Sam’s heart jumped from its regular paced beating to something much more akin to rattling around inside his ribcage, and he packed his things and left, striking a strange balance between fretful anticipation and solemn resignation. He left believing he’d already lost because, really, what was to be gained in giving him a second chance?

 

7:23pm hit just as Sam burst through the doors to the lecture hall, just another one of many filtering through to an already well-populated room. It was hard to discern any individual faces amid the sea of students, but Sam’s keen eye and the years he’d spent training it spotted Jessica fairly quickly. She was sat chatting with a boy which initially made Sam feel a little awkward and had him reconsidering his plans, but the longer he looked on the more he realized exactly who it was she was with. Tugging the strap of his backpack closer he took in a deep, steadying breath and headed over, hand clenching around the fabric and eyes only shifting to Jess when absolutely necessary. The boy was the first to look up.

 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Silence. He’d expected anger and he’d expected that would hurt, but this silence was much more potent. He stood awkwardly for a while before unhooking his bag and flumping down in the seat regardless. “Look,” he muttered, casting a rueful glance at the seated boy before turning his attention wholly onto Jessica. “I’m sorry I just took off, but I couldn’t let that douchebag go around acting like that, like he can just pull dangerous stunts and cause trouble, piss us all off for his amusement. Someone had to say something.” While Jessica just stared and held her frown, the boy beside her let out an odd sort of laugh. Sam’s brow creased in confusion.

 

“Sorry,” he offered, quieting his giggles. “I’m assuming that douchebag you’re on about is my brother?” He looked over to Jessica for confirmation, whose face softened and lips curled in amusement, fading into a much more sympathetic expression.

 

“I think I get it, though a little more warning and less…bravado next time, okay? Oh, and -  sorry, that was almost rude of me – Sam, this is Castiel. Castiel, Sam.” Humour still coloured the boy’s face as he offered a flick of a wave, mouthing a silent ‘Hey’. Sam’s brow knitted, shooting up just a quickly once recognition hit.

 

“Oh, you. I- You’ve met my brother, Dean.” The mention of his name instantly caused a shift in Castiel’s expression, who almost looked sheepish, as though he’d been caught doing something rather naughty. Sam tried hard to not even think of the possibilities.

 

“You’re Dean’s Sam? Oh. Yeah, we’ve…we’ve met.” He was blushing and Jessica turned between the two of them, silently amused. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Good things,” he added hastily, suddenly even more awkward and insecure than he’d been initially. It was putting Sam off, but he managed a smile regardless.

 

“I’m sure he’s sent along the best horror stories, really. So, uh, Castiel, what are you studying?”

 

“Communications. Kind of a family thing, really.” Castiel shrugged, apparently not that bothered about academia. Jessica smiled.

 

“We actually met in the Film Studies block we share 2 hours ago,” she said with a nod, pre-empting the question on Sam’s lips. “It was a last minute elective class decision for the both of us apparently.”

 

 

“Jessica actually mentioned the, uh, incident over the weekend. My brother’s…well, he’s not always-  Actually, he is always doing stuff like that, but he’s nice really. Our family’s been a bit…” Embarrassment crept up his whole body, twisting his posture and dampening his face. Castiel sighed and looked away for a moment, looking back steady and serious. “He’s just not handling stress very well at the moment, but that seems to be in our genes.” Memories of arguments with his father and Dean hovered in his mind, and Sam sympathized even without really knowing the circumstances. He grimaced in pity.

 

“Well, you don’t seem- You seem to be pretty calm, different.” Castiel smiled.

 

“There are some exceptions to that rule. I worry more than I rage about it all. Don’t get me wrong, I can get angry like the rest of them, but I usually just… I understand my brother, and I care about him, obviously. He’s just not been the same and it really worries me, you know?” Sam did know, could already see the shift in Dean, and suddenly he felt a sort of kinship with this fellow younger brother. He was nodding without realizing, and Castiel must’ve sensed he shared the sentiment over Dean as his face fell even further and he shot a careful glance at Jessica. “So, your brother-”

 

“We’ve both dealt with our fair share of stuff.” It stung, thinking of what he’d left – escaped, he preferred to think of it as – and the feeling that even just saying what he had was a sort of betrayal of Dean’s confidence. This kid could very much mean nothing to him, could be another flash in the pan romance, and to blather on about the Hardships of the Family Winchester… Well, lines would definitely be crossed, and Sam wasn’t quite so vindictive as to bare their collective all for public consumption. Castiel’s reaction was a lot stronger than he’d anticipated, not pitying in the usual, superficial sense, but a remarkably deep sort of sadness that showed only in his eyes and aged him severely. It was off-putting, unnatural for a boy of his age, yet Sam could only feel pity. “Cas-”

 

“I’m sorry, I should never have-”

 

“No, no, it’s fine, really. I mean…what family doesn’t have their share of war wounds these days, right?” They shared a look, grimaces matched, and Jessica looked between the two with a growing guilt marking her features. She swallowed and sighed, closed her eyes and pushed down the feeling, clapping her hands as her eyes snapped back open.

 

“Okay, I think that’s been dark enough. New topic-” Her mouth hung open as the projector flickered into life and the small form of the professor started to speak, voice carried through a discretely clipped on microphone, and called for the attention of the room. “I know this is a late class, but is anyone up for a drink and chat at my place after?” She continued barely above a whisper. “Cas, I get if you can’t given how you’ve got a longer walk home.”

 

“Wait, walk? Which res hall are you in, Cas?” The name rolled off his tongue experimentally, feeling odd at first but settling quite comfortably.” Castiel smiled a tad sheepishly, brought about by still getting used to the nickname being used by others as much as it was by talking during a lesson, and settled back in his seat.

 

“West Hall,” he mumbled, shooting a nervous glance towards the completely unaware teacher whose arms were making enthusiastic circles to emphasis whatever point he was trying to make about creative processes and the joys of the written word. “So, not really much of a walk seeing how it’s the block right across from Moore. You’re in Moore as well, right?” Sam just nodded. “I’d love to come over Jess but I have a class at 8 tomorrow morning over at the other campus. Have to get up at 6 tomorrow so I can catch my bus in time.”

 

“Oh well, another time then?” Jessica smiled sadly. Castiel was silent for a while, staring intently at Jessica, gauging. He broke out into a smile at last and it brightened Jessica’s face in turn.

 

“Definitely.”

 

 

For 3 hours there was a whole lot of nothing said with a few interspersed moments of genius, quotable and hopeful statements that many a student scribbled down in their notepads, hurriedly typed up on their laptops, and what seemed to be a minor breakthrough: Castiel realized the first class was _not_ actually brimming with vital information and lightened up his vigilance after the first half an hour and settled in to chat more freely with Sam and Jess. The topics were far more lighthearted and varied than at the start and, though still a rather inept and unusual character, Castiel was opening up and proving himself to be a really nice guy. It was funny to Sam how vastly different from his brother he seemed to be. By the time the class was over, open invitations for visits had been passed all around, contact details shared, and Sam had even successfully convinced Cas that it wasn’t a big deal if he answered any of the numerous texts he’d received throughout. They walked home together, parting ways at the doors to Moore Hall, happy, confident in their new connections, and prepared for the next time they’d meet.

 

West Hall was merely 4 minutes away, past Derby Dining Center, directly across from Moore. Castiel walked alone in the dwindling heat of the day with a soft smile on his face but an eagerness to return to his dorm. The vibration of his cell phone tingled at his leg, drawing out his smile even wider as he pulled it from his pocket and brought up the waiting message.

 

**_{Got a couple free hours tomorrow afternoon. Want some company?}_ **

 

Heat rose in his cheeks as he hurriedly typed out his reply, happy little flutters erupting in his chest at the thought.

 

**_{I only have classes until 1. Is that okay for you?}_ **

 

The reply came so quickly it sparked even stronger elation and Castiel’s feet moved faster and lighter to his dorm.

 

**_{See you at 1:30 then just you and me?}_ **

****

He opened up the door to floor 8, eager to curl up on his bed and chat in private, but had his hopes shattered before they’d even fully formed.

 

“Castiel!” His expression slipped slightly, taking in the two girls loitering in the hallway. The shorter of the two, dark haired and pixie faced, petite in almost every sense of the word, unfurled and rose to meet him before the other. There was a sharpness to her gaze, a ferocity behind the face of kindness, that denoted a fiercely determined and self-assured girl, someone with a very clear and directed intent, though God only knew what she intended with Castiel. He noticed, too, though didn’t fully understand enough to be anything more than faintly cautious.

 

“Ruby, Sparrow, what are you doing hanging around the hall? Did you guys lock yourselves out again?” The other girl laughed, curving herself to rest more of her body against the wall.

 

“No, thank God. Once is more than enough.”

 

“Yeah, and at least she’s wearing more than a towel this time if it turns out we’re wrong,” Ruby added with a smirk. “No, we were actually waiting for you.” Castiel still felt intimidated by this girl, felt the sense of danger and a superiority emanating from her, and he was sure she was loving the effect being in the dark was having on him. He figured that she knew something he didn’t and that little piece of power, though she’d probably give a little of it up for show, was tantalizing for her.

 

“Uh, why?” He managed, eyes a touch too wide and expression far too lost to conceal his thoughts.

 

“There was a guy who swung by here a couple of hours ago, think he was trying to catch you before class maybe. He buzzed us, asked if you’d gone to class, sounded really bummed when we told him you had, and then we let him up so he could leave you…this.” With a flourish Ruby swung a pointed finger over to Sparrow who shifted against the wall, reaching behind her and thrusting out a small, bumpy envelope.

 

“He looked so embarrassed when he came up, it was kind of adorable. Adorable and awkward. Pretty funny, actually.” Her face was gentle, smiling openly and honestly at Cas. Ruby, on the other hand, still had that spark to her, almost predatory.

 

“So who’s the guy then? You two going the whole friends with benefits route or-” Cas bristled.

 

“He’s just a friend of mine. I met him on move in day. He seems very…nice.”

 

“In bed. Look, I don’t know what’s going on with him, but your face sure as hell doesn’t scream ‘Just friends’. You already totally want to bone him, right?” Off to the side, desperately trying to sink into safety, Sparrow swallowed.

 

“Ruby, maybe you should-”

 

“How I feel is not really any of your business, Ruby. Drop it.” Though Castiel’s face was stony, Ruby laughed and shrugged her shoulders, letting her hands fall back to her sides with a loud slap.

 

“Kay, whatever. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just saying, if you want to tap that, you should probably open your mouth and say something. Anyway, you really need to open that envelope.” Sparrow was still uncomfortably stood, giving Cas a secret apologetic look. He nodded at her before turning back to Ruby.

 

“And I will. In private. Thank you for delivering this to me. Goodbye.” The door opened and shut behind him swiftly without another look back. He sighed as it clicked, striding over immediately to his bed and flopping down onto the mattress with all manners of relief rushing through his muscles. When he remembered the envelope he allowed himself to smile again, peeling back the flap with curious excitement. Inside was a simple torn white sheet of paper and numerous coloured clippings; there were several images of burgers and party hats, cakes, presents, and a few ads for a place called Biggerson’s. Confused but amused, he pulled out the white sheet, unfolding it, and everything made sense.

**Cas** **,**

**I know it’s early but**

**HAPPY 18 th. **

**I figured because you’re sort of screwed for free time on Thursday**

**I’d take you out to celebrate early.**

**Going to Biggerson’s. You’ll love it. BEST BURGERS** ** EVER ** **,**

**and I sort of figured you’d wanna enjoy all your favorite things on**

**the BIG DAY.**

**So don’t eat a ton.**

**See you tomorrow.**

Another grin took over his face and Castiel clutched the letter to his chest, riding the glee and feeling all his earlier anger ebbing away. Tomorrow afternoon was going to be brilliant and absolutely nothing else mattered to him with that thought sinking in.

 

 

“No, really, coffee doesn’t really seem to have the same effect on me as it should do on normal people. I blame Dean. He’s the one who introduced me to it when I was like 8.” Jessica giggled.

 

“Really? 8?”

 

“Dean’s always been a real bad influence. Terrible guy. Worse singer.” Sam huffed a little laugh and took another sip of coffee while Jessica watched on, smiling softly.

 

“You already really miss him, don’t you?” It took a moment of fiddling with the mug before Sam looked up to reply.

 

“It’s just… It’s really weird not having him right there, you know? I’ve spent so much time just knowing he’s near if I need him, or even if I don’t, and now it feels like he’s in another world entirely. That doesn’t make any sense-”

 

“No, no, I get it. It has be an odd thing to adjust to, and Dean’s probably missing you just as bad.” She put down her own cup, a steaming mug of purple herbal tea. “Leah was the same when she moved away from home. Missed her little sister like crazy. You should probably talk to her actually, got a lot in common.” Sam’s lips curled around his coffee, nodding faintly as he drank. Another contented little sigh escaped him and he settled back into the seat, thankful that Jessica’s dorm actually had a proper seating area.

 

“Where’d she move from anyway?”

 

“Canada.” Sam’s eyebrows shot up and crumpled just as quickly. Jessica nodded in agreement.

 

“Oh, ouch. That’s quite the distance then, no wonder she misses her sister. Hardly think moving a couple hours away compares to moving countries…” He was shot an exasperated look which he shrunk against slightly.

 

“Hey, a move is a move, and it’s still something pretty big to get used to.” She put down her tea again and pulled out her cell phone, fingers moving deftly across the keys in less than seconds. “What’s your schedule like for Wednesday, Sam?” The question actually caught him off guard and he blinked in a mild daze.

 

“My sched- Uh, nothing until 3 and then no free time until about 10, I think.” He paused, thinking it over again before studying Jessica for some sort of hint as to what she was planning. “…why?” Looking up for a beat from her phone she smirked, smacking her lips.

 

“How do you fancy lunch, the three of us?”

 

“Three of- You mean you, me, and-”

 

“Leah, yes. You guys _had_ to meet at some point, I’m just being proactive.” Sam blanched.

 

“Jess, you’re not trying to hook us up are you?” Her face fell, quickly replaced with a look of pure embarrassment, hand not quite covering her giggles.

 

“Oh my God, no. No, definitely not. That thought didn’t even cross my mind. No, I just thought you guys would get along great. As friends. Just as friends.” The phone chimed and vibrated loudly, and after she brought the screen up Jessica chuckled again. “Yeah, Leah just thought the same thing. I’ve got a death threat here…with a Star Wars reference. Big trouble.” Sam laughed too, shaking his head. “Anyway, she’s been here longer than I have and knows more people, good people, and I figured you could use a few more awesome friends to have over for coffee, steal food from, all that. You can’t just rely on me, you know.” They shared another look and laugh, and Sam chugged back the remains of his tepid coffee with a grimace.

 

“About that…it’s after midnight and you have no more coffee brewed, so I think I should probably get back to my dorm and crash.”

 

“Drained all you can from me, Winchester?” Jessica joked with mock venom. Depositing the mug into the sink, Sam turned to the door and shot her a goofy half smile.

 

“This time around. I’ll be back when you have more cookies or something. Night, Jess.” The door creaked closed behind him as Jessica waved him off, and he slipped into his own dorm, exhausted but content. There was still some chaos to his dorm room but things were evening out again in his social life, and that was something to take comfort in. He flunked down onto his bed to relax, body buzzing with caffeine and relief, and fell unintentionally but inevitably asleep.

 

 


	4. Jumelage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam begins a new, short day of class that becomes   
> unbearably long when he learns it’s a course he shares with Gabriel   
> Descieux and receives a piece of even worse news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> London is hot a humid and I’ve been working right in the middle of it all, so I must apologize for the delays…again. I   
> should also take this time to say some thank yous. First off, many thanks to andlatitude again for the encouragement and for helping spark this story, for listening to me ramble off ideas and scenes at stupid o’clock in the morning, for responding so amazingly, and for all the inspiring art. Aside from that, she’s an indispensable friend all round. I say the same to getthesaltnburn, tseecka, remivel, swordcane, and anyone else I have inflicted with my enthusiasm and derp with regards to this story. Thank you to rosemcphee and praisethemoftiss for helping me expand my potential audience. Thank you to everyone reading, reviewing, and favourite-ing this story. Thank you for reading in the first place, for your reassuring and uplifting words, and for your patience. Also, one final set of thank yous to Colombia for all the coffee I’ve imbibed, England for all the cheeses I’ve sustained myself with, and my grandparents for investing their time and patience in me, and for helping me fix most of my computer problems.

It was lucky that Sam had set alarms on his phone before classes had even begun as he was completely dead to the world, deeply unconscious for over ten hours before the irritating drone roused him. He shifted, groggy and grumpy and not at all enthusiastic about the day’s lessons, regardless of what they may be. When reality kicked in, when he finally realized he had only half an hour to get everything in order and get to class, he panicked and started to give much more of damn, legs tangling in the sheets as he bolted up from the bed and over to his clothes. There’d be a queue for the facilities, he knew that already, so instead he rushed through most of his dailies in the kitchen sink, leaving only the essentials for the bathroom just before he headed out the door to school.

 

            It was also lucky that Sam could reach Merill Hall’s Environmental Studies wing in 15 minutes at a bit of a run and, though exhausted, he managed to make his class with a fair bit of time to spare. The hallways were nearly barren, a few people loitering around the open doorway and signs of a few more heading in, and Sam wondered briefly if the class was surprisingly unpopular or if he’d arrived far too enthusiastically early. He peered around the corner of the door, testing, anxious, and laughed in relief; the room was heaving with students and looked near enough full, a completely occupied class, and for good reason: the entire course was merely three weeks long, no doubt screaming easy marks to the vast majority no doubt.

 

            “You know, none of them are going to bite,” a melodious, gentle voice called behind him. A svelte, almost ethereal looking blond stood just behind his shoulder, wearing a Mona Lisa smile with all her amusement contained to her bright eyes. Everything about her was light and airy, and his thoughts were fluttering between Galadriel, Aurora, and The Last Unicorn. They quickly shifted to the image of Dean pissing himself laughing at the fact that Sam remembered The Last Unicorn so vividly. Still, he was sure even Dean would appreciate this girl’s delicate beauty. He’d been staring a while himself, and felt suddenly mortified at how blatantly he’d been lost, but the girl didn’t seem at all irritated by it.

 

            “Uh…” Not the most intelligent of replies, but he’d forgotten what he’d been doing, mind still somewhere between Rivendell and Epcot. She laughed, as lovely a sound as he’d expected, and reached out a long, slight hand to nudge his back.

 

            “Go on, get in there. The prof waits for no-one. Don’t want to miss out now, do you?” The smile morphed into a smirk as she slid past, gracefully gliding down the stairs towards another avidly waving girl, slipping into the seat beside and settling into conversation. Sam wandered down the steps with less assurance, eyeing the unknown masses, looking for an open space to sit. All manners of people were packed into the room, some clearly there with an interest, others not as much, a fair few…none at all. In the middle right of the room, right on the end of the row by the other set of stairs, was a single open seat next to an Asian girl with subtly tinted hair and an unusually shy demeanor. Before her was an open drawing pad covered with various depictions of sharks and an half-eaten packet of Doritos, possibly a good old college breakfast substitute, and she barely looked up from either as Sam sat down. Sam being Sam, he was about to do the polite thing and introduce himself, throw out the usual greetings and pleasantries and try to make a new friend, but he was distracted by the sight of an unfortunately familiar face 2 rows down and 3 seats across. That profile was unmistakable, even with those ridiculous aviators propped upon his nose, obscuring his eyes.

 

            _Well, that’s just great. Can’t escape the dick._

 

            Apparently his mental groan was actually audible as his neighbor looked up and tutted sympathetically.

 

            “Not one for all the soil stuff either? I think all the technical mumbo jumbo’s gonna take all the fun out of the camping trip. We should just get out there with cameras and sticks and poke stuff. Much better.” Slowly turning to the girl, Sam’s mouth formed a perfect downward curve, reminiscent of a sturgeon fish, as he processed her misinterpretation and tried hard not to laugh out loud. He thought about correcting her, mind cycling through the possible results, and opened his mouth to speak, before he could get a word out, he was interrupted and his jaw closed with an audible pop, only extending the fish-like illusion.

 

            Clad as casually as his job could allow, pale dress shirt opened to three buttons down and more expensive denim jeans held up by a silver snarling hound belt buckle, the lecturer sauntered in looking very much like he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that he was late, or had a room full of students to teach. In fact, he didn’t look like the sort to really give a rat’s ass about anything. Even from the midpoint of the room Sam could see him smirking. It wasn’t a friendly face, humorous and inviting; in fact, it rather much resembled the dog at his waist.. It took only a minute for Sam to decide that this man, this new teacher of his, was not going to be one of his favorites at all.

 

            “Alright, listen up,” the man boomed, microphone squeaking briefly under the assault. “My name is Mr. Haris and I’m going to be trying to teach you Environmental Science, trying being the operative word here. This course is three weeks as I’m sure most of you know because, well, look how many of you showed up trying to get ‘easy marks’. Well, first thing you have to know: This is by no means an easy class. You fail? You fail, and I don’t give out pity marks. Do the work, do what I say, get it right, you’ll do okay. Now,” he cleared his throat and shuffled some papers around purely for effect, “Week one you’ll be learning the ropes, finding out just what this course is about, how everyone’s affecting the environment and what industries are doing to fix what’s been screwed up. You’ll also find out what the camping expedition entails and what you’ll need to actually learn from that to get you through week three. Make sense? Yes? No? Either way, this is all covered yet again in the course outline sheets I have provided up front. For God’s sake, don’t forget to pick one up on your way out. Right up here, up front, on my desk. Easy to see. No excuses.”

 

The brusqueness of Mr. Haris was setting Sam on edge and, apparently, his neighbor too; she’d shrunk further back into her seat and the pen was twitching in her hands, the papers before her completely ignored. “Today you get the briefing and your buddies for the trip. I know you’re new to class but I’ve done some careful research into you guys so you can be paired with your best possible match. Best in my eyes may not exactly be best in yours. I’m sorry if you’re bestest friends forever with someone who’s not your intellectual equal. Grin and bear it, it’s only a week and you’ll be in the same general area. You’ll live…”

 

            Though he tried to pay attention Sam found he couldn’t focus on what just seemed to be needlessly aggressive and sarcastic bile. He closed himself off entirely from everything else being said and turned his attention to Gabriel instead, glaring daggers at his back for everything he’d done and, admittedly, channeling every ounce of anger Mr. Haris was drawing out of him in that moment. Gabriel was slouched back in his chair, probably not giving a damn at all, one of the many in the class just looking to score some easy marks, with his pen tucked behind his ear where it would likely stay for the rest of the year. Sure, it was all conjecture, but Sam had a feeling he had this jerk figured pretty well. The theories and ideas alone that his head was helpfully supplying were pissing him off even more than what he’d actually witnessed in action. _Gabriel Descieux to rhyme with douchebag_.

 

Even being in the same class, going on the same field trip with him was too close for comfort. Sam didn’t much like fighting but he was well trained, by his brother and their father, and he didn’t know if he could stem the urge to smack the jerk in the face before the three weeks of Enviro-Sci were up. A small, satisfied smile may have crept up on his face at the mental image of knocking Gabriel down a few pegs, but he wasn’t fully aware of it. Just then, a timid nudge from his side and the acrid voice of Mr. Haris cut through his thoughts and landed him back in reality, leading him to something that brought about an instant feeling of dread. He’d had little reason to feel trepidation about the partner assignments, not knowing the majority of the students in the class; but now the worry was there as a hefty weight in his stomach and he realized, with his luck, that it was for good reason.

 

            “Pairings have been emailed out and should be waiting in your inbox. If you’re so inclined, get to know your partners before you actually go on the trip so that you can get friendly or whatever. If not, don’t whine about not being friends. I’ll put that down as being your fault alone and, well, I don’t really care much.” A simple poke from the Asian girl brought Sam out of his own mind in time to catch the last of Mr. Haris’ words, and while there was no good reason for it, they sounded to Sam the precursor to something much more sinister. Reluctantly mimicking many of the other students, he pulled his laptop closer to him on the small foldout desk and brought up his webmail. When he clicked open Mr. Haris’ email, any level of mirth he’d felt earlier was instantly obliterated with just a handful of words— Verdana, 12pt, and so typical of everything in Sam’s life he could’ve screamed aloud in class.

 

Gabriel Descieux.

 

            Sam swore under his breath, sparing a quick apologetic glance to his friend at the rightbefore snapping back to the email and hoping to God that his vision was blurred or he was hallucinating. The name was still there, bold and dark like a taunt and definitely not changing, surrounded by a jumble of entirely meaningless words that got lost in the bubbling sensation of anger and despair and fear that things would be even worse now and, in all likelihood, would mark the end of Sam’s term at Kansas State. At least, he thought somewhere in the middle of it all, he’d go out with a bang – right to Gabriel’s face with the hope of leaving a few bruises and, if he was lucky, possibly even a break or two in the process.

 

            Everything else that was said in class got lost, travelling in through Sam’s ear, out through the other, and firing straight into Gabriel’s back as imagined lances. The only break in what should’ve been a vital but calm day of learning was at lunch and the first moment that Gabriel became aware of Sam’s presence in the class. He’d risen from his seat and turned to grab his jacket, and it was then that he caught a glimpse, straightened up, and glared with an exasperated sort of fury that burned deeper than his lackadaisical posture and pretense let on. The jacket was almost torn from the seat and tucked hurriedly, angrily under his arm opposite the one that trapped his worn messenger bag, chest heaving and eyes firmly fixed on Sam until he pounded For as much as Sam disliked Gabe, and that was putting it mildly, at least he could rest assured that the feeling was very definitely mutual. Seeing his chance, he waited until the flock of students rushing out for break had slowed and thinned somewhat before darting further down the stairs and towards Mr.Haris, surrounded by at least 10 desperate looking faces. Many were dismissed within moments, others managed to get a bit more of a look in, and then it was Sam’s turn.

 

            He stepped forward as though the wait was far more organized, queue-like and orderly, but something about his face must’ve given his intent away before he’d opened his mouth as Mr. Haris’ face crumpled into an irritated, disbelieving scowl.

 

“Is there any way I can switch partners with-”

 

“No. I told you at the start and, surprisingly enough, that still stands.” Mr. Haris’ arms folded and he shifted his stance, legs set further and more firmly apart. Paired with the look on his face and what was being held back in his eyes, Sam felt intimidated for the first time in a long while. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with Mr. Descieux.”

 

“Seriously?” Sam grumbled, already knowing for certain that this man was in no way kidding around. It was final. He was stuck in a tent with Gabriel for 6 whole nights. He wondered if this man knew anything about student relations, maybe had some inkling into how much he and Gabe already hated each other. It was unlikely, but Sam figured if anyone knew it would be him. Given what he’d already learned about the professor, it was likely he not only knew, but probably had plans to turn that little fact into some vindictive little game just to amuse himself, to pass the time.

 

“Seriously. I’m not the kind to go back on my decisions at the drop of a hat and this is no exception. I actually spent a lot of time figuring this whole thing out and for good reason, so any petty little squabbles you’re having-” Sam could’ve sworn he’d seen the teacher’s lips twitch as he said that. “-or any friends you have in this class that you’re ‘totally bummed’ about not getting to shack up with for the week are just going to have to get pushed aside in the name of _actual_ work. You and Gabriel are best suited academically and, should you actually just buckle down and do it, will produce the best work possible together. That’s that.” Despite the reasonable, even professional, words, there was no mistaking the sneer that spread this time, undermining the man’s remarks. Sam felt a tingling in his hands, the blood pressure rising, and had to fight the urge to curl his fists 'til his knuckles were white and scream at the man. He sighed, breathing it all away slowly, and tried not to glare.

 

“But…”

 

“Goodbye, Mr. Winchester,” said Mr. Haris in a sing-song voice, and Sam no longer gave a damn if he was glaring at the dismissal, because now he _really_ was pissed. He spun and raced back up the steps, flinging himself back in his seat and scaring the life out of his neighbor with the rage he was emitting. Usually he’d feel a pang of guilt seeing how much discomfort he’d caused, seeing the poor girl caught in the aftermath and inching as far away from him as she could get, but the haze of his anger was blinding him to the point that all he could think was dark thoughts of grisly ends and, maybe, just maybe, if he should drop out of a class after only two days of university. He sat and stewed in his anger, twitching with the desire, the _need_ , to do something other than sit in his complete and utter helplessness, until finally he threw himself up and out of his chair and out of the hall. That was it. He didn’t care any longer.

 

For the first time in his life, Sam Winchester was quitting a class.

 

 

 

Under the dim light of a single simple energy efficient lamp, Gabriel Descieux seethed. Not only had his attempt to switch camp partners failed miserably –only made worse by his very loud and physically wild reaction to the news- but he’d also been beaten to the task by the one person he could stand least. He sat, frown creasing his brow, as he tried desperately to push all thoughts related from his mind to focus on the book cradled in his hands, but no avail.

 

_Trust that gangly dumbass to put a damper on what should be my favorite class…_

The scowl deepened and, utterly defeated, he flicked off the light in a fast, furious swipe and brooded alone in the darkness instead.


End file.
